A Touch of Malice (Hades & Persephone #3)(21)

The goddess sighed. “Nefeli!”

As Hecate said the hound’s name, her ears went back, and for a brief moment, Persephone thought that she was going to call off the dog.

Instead, she said, “Attack.”

Persephone’s eyes widened, and in the next second, she teleported, landing in the grass beside the Aleyonia Ocean. She’d only been here once, on a night when she’d wandered from Hades’ palace and gotten lost. She rose onto her hands and knees, realizing that she’d missed falling from the cliffside by an inch. Her limbs shook as she settled into the grass, drawing her knees to her chest. She sat for a long while, letting the salty wind dry the tears that streaked her face, replaying what had happened in the meadow.

Teleporting had felt like her only option as soon as Hecate had given her orders, and while she was now safe, she also felt like she’d failed. She did not blame Hecate. She knew what the goddess was trying to teach her. She had to think faster. As soon as she had felt Hecate’s magic surround her, she should have been on alert. Instead, she’d grown too comfortable—so comfortable she had not taken her instruction seriously.

She would not make the same mistake a second time—because eventually, there would be no room for second chances.





CHAPTER VI – A TREAT

Persephone paced her bedchamber.

Hades had not returned since leaving her in the limo, and while she wasn’t anxious about his absence, she was nervous about trying to sleep without him. Each time she looked at their bed she felt dread. At least when Hades was here, she knew he would guard her sleep and wake her from her nightmares if Pirithous decided to show.

She paused in front of the fireplace, and her eyes fell to Hades’ decanter of whiskey. Curious, she picked it up studying the amber liquid. Through the crystal, it glittered like citrine gems. Once, she’d asked Hades why he preferred whiskey as his drink of choice.

“It’s healthy,” he’d said.

She’d snorted.

“It is,” he’d argued. “It helps me relax.”

“But you drink it constantly,” she pointed out.

He’d shrugged then. “I like to feel relaxed constantly.”

If it helped Hades relax, maybe it would help her.

She pulled the cap free and took a drink. It was surprisingly…sweet. It reminded her of vanilla and caramel, two ingredients she had a lot of experience with. She took another drink, detecting a hint of spice similar to Hades’ smell. She liked it. Tucking the bottle against her breasts, she left the bedroom and wandered into the kitchen, flipping on the lights which seemed far too bright after walking through the shadowed halls of the palace.

She was becoming more familiar with Milan’s kitchen—and surprisingly, the cook was happy to share the space, most likely because Persephone could teach him more modern recipes—in particular, he was eager to learn how to make cakes.

“You know,” Persephone had said one afternoon as she taught him how to decorate sugar cookies.

“I’m sure there are plenty of celebrated chefs in Asphodel. Have you ever thought of bringing them into your kitchen?”

“I never had any reason to,” Milan said. “My Lord is a creature of habit—he has eaten the same thing for eternity—no wish for variety or…flavor.”

That sounded like Hades.

“I am sure he will be open to trying a few new dishes.”

“If the suggestion comes from your lips, I have no doubt he will bend to your will.”

Milan was not wrong. Persephone understood the power she wielded over Hades. He would do anything for her.

Burn the world for her.

Those words shuddered through her, their truth rang deep, and she wondered as the snow and ice coated the earth above, if Hades would hold true to his words.

She sighed and focused on her task. She decided that what she needed other than whiskey, were brownies. She set to work, locating ingredients, bowls, and measuring cups. She started by melting butter then mixed it with sugar. She took pleasure in beating the eggs—which was a good thing because she didn’t want to take her frustration out on the actual batter—over beating wouldn’t give her the texture she wanted. After the eggs, she added vanilla, flower, and cocoa powder. Once the batter was mixed, she poured it into a pan, smoothing the blunt end of her spoon over the top before sampling.

“Hmm,” she sighed at the flavor upon her tongue—warm and sweet.

“How does it taste?”

The sound of Hades’ voice was followed by his presence as he manifested behind her. Persephone turned her head toward him—she could feel his breath on her cheek as she answered.

“Divine.”

She turned to him and dragged her finger along the spoon, gathering enough batter for him.

“Taste,” she whispered as her fingers parted his lips.

It took no coaxing—Hades’ tongue glided along her finger, the pressure of his mouth increasing as he sucked away what remained of the batter. When he released her, he made a deep sound in the back of his throat and his voice rumble as he spoke.

“Exquisite,” he said. “But I have tasted divinity and there is nothing sweeter.”

His words tightened her chest and made the space they shared feel even smaller. They stared at one another for a moment, simmering in the heat they shared until Persephone turned away, returning the spoon to the bowl.